


In which there’s a succubus in Beacon Hills

by VirtualCarrot (Kaoro)



Series: Teen Wolf tumblr ficlets [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Monster of the Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoro/pseuds/VirtualCarrot
Summary: Derek has a plan to deal with the new monster of the week and Stiles is horrified because Derek's plans are terrible.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf tumblr ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643803
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	In which there’s a succubus in Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> because of this post https://littlespooneven.tumblr.com/post/72362870826/the-most-underrated-thing-about-the-sterek-scene
> 
> "the most underrated thing about the sterek scene in 2x02 is legit the best part because “give me a sample. what are you going to open with?” is basically stiles asking derek to try out his flirting skills on him to deem whether or not they’re good enough and whY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS MORE"

There’s a succubus in Beacon Hills. _There’s a succubus in Beacon Hills_. Stiles can’t quite get his mind around it. He should probably be used to it and all, after the alpha pack, after the following spiritual insanity, after the kitsune, after the gaggle of sprites. Even stabilized the Nemeton remains a powerful Beacon, though to be honest most visitors have been quite peaceful lately. They met a friendly enough harpy two months ago — quite friendly actually, _very_ friendly, whose only harm was to Stiles’ psyche because Stiles did not need to know that much about bird genitalia and how it also applied to some supernatural species, thank you very much.

A succubus, though? This is stuff just straight up from a paranormal erotica novel, and damn it but there are limits to the bullshit Stiles will put up with.

Case in point, Derek’s.

They’re parked in a dingy side-street on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, where ugly sheet metal industrial buildings adorned with neon signs host businesses of mediocre repute. Stiles rarely feels more thankful for his conventional middle class upbringing than when the supernatural drama drags him this way. It’s fun once, twice, the excitement of the unusual and forbidden, the illicit side of things, then he slips into a puddle of something he doesn’t want to even consider one time too many and it starts growing old.

Stiles drums his fingers on the steering wheel of the jeep and turns to the passenger side with a frown. “Seriously?”

Derek crosses his arms and scowls right back. "Yes,” he says, so Stiles raises three fingers, one per victim registered so far, lowers them one by one and mimics the wail of an ambulance.

He’s cut short when Derek slaps a hand over his mouth with a wince of horror and quickly says: “I’m a werewolf. I’m not at risk.”

Derek’s hand is dry and warm on his lips; Stiles frees himself with a jerk of his head. "That’s strange, because I distinctly remember you saying that Scott should avoid doing it. And Isaac isn’t the one I’m taking to the slaughterhouse right now.“

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Slaughterhouse,” he mocks silently then sneers, which is not attractive and his face could and should totally freeze that way. Would serve him right. "Scott’s the alpha, it would be stupid to risk him, even for something this easy. And Isaac can’t flirt worth shit.“

"I really don’t think the succubus would care,” Stiles mutters, scratching his left knee at a stain on his pants that he hasn’t been able to get out for months.

Derek sighs, rolls his shoulders and reaches for the door.

"No, wait, wait!'' Stiles flaps his hand around in alarm, hitting the handlebar above him. He cradles his sore fingers to his chest with a hiss then shakes his hand and turns to look at Derek. "Give me a quick rundown again, I want to make sure —”

Derek throws his head back like Stiles is asking him to do something incredibly painful — yes, and it’s called _communicate_ — and heaves the most dramatic sigh Stiles has ever heard.

The most dramatic sigh Stiles has ever heard _this week._

“Go in, chat her up, bring her out back, distract her long enough for you to trap her, and then we, you know —” He inspects a claw. “Chat.”

The theatrics usually never fail to crack Stiles up and he’s 75% convinced that nowadays it’s the main reason Derek keeps this shit up, but Stiles is too appalled to enjoy the moment. "Right, distract her, that doesn’t sound like an improvised disaster waiting to happen at all.“

Derek is starting to look genuinely affronted now. "Yes, _distract_ her. Smile at her, stroke her arm, lean in close, kiss her —”

“Kiss her? you think you’re just going to _kiss_ — that’s how _she feeds off people_ Derek, so how are you going to do that?! Huh?”

Something seems to snap inside of Derek. He braces himself with a closed fist against the dashboard and _lunges._ His lips are dry and chapped, his scruff prickly. Stiles has to scramble for purchase against the window lest his head knocks against it, then so he can resist the pressure and even push back against Derek, angle his face and —

Derek backs away, heaving. Stiles has his hands clenched near convulsively around the steering wheel. They share a stunned silence. Look at each other. Derek shudders in frustration and something else he refuses to name.

Then his eyes go wide in realization and he scrambles out of the car with an amount of flailing that wouldn’t be surprising coming from Stiles. He disappears into the shadows of the closest alley without a word. The door of the car left open swings in his wake then sways to a still.

Alone in the car, Stiles blinks at the windshield, raises an unsteady hand to his lips where the phantom touch of Derek’s beard still tingles.

 _Uh_.


End file.
